


shine like the night’s star

by ghostinqgcrl (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Confidence, Chubby Castiel (Supernatural), Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Castiel (Supernatural), Little bit of angst, M/M, Season/Series 09, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ghostinqgcrl
Summary: “You look good, Cas. Happy, healthy.”





	shine like the night’s star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [castivak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/castivak/gifts).



> Okay!! I hope this is good!! I haven’t written in ages, and i’m a little rusty. This is also my first time writing anything for supernatural, so I hope the characters aren’t too out of character. I tried my best xx

He hadn’t meant to get hurt, truly. It wasn’t his fault he got distracted and hadn’t seen the demon that had snuck up behind him, leaving him bed ridden, arm and leg broken, when a concussion that made his ears ring. 

When he had become human, Metatron stealing his grace, he knew this would happen, eventually. It happened to the Winchesters all the time. But, normally, he was there to heal them with a simple touch. 

Now, however, Sam had taken on that roll. Everyday, Sam would bring Sam was the one taking care of him, bringing him food, water, and everything else, whenever he needed. Sam would bandage his wounds, clean them, and keep him in the best condition he could be in, all injuries aside. 

Sam, after many weeks, when he finally deemed him well enough, started bringing in bigger meals, packing in more proteins, carbs, and sugars. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he would always finish his meals feeling pleasantly full, a warm feeling in his stomach.

He had never been able to enjoy food, before he became human, and now, he took every opportunity to eat whatever Sam would offer him.

“Hey, Cas. Dean made lunch. Hamburgers with fries, want some?” Cas sat up, looking over at Sam, who entered the room with a smile on his face, closing the door behind him.

He nodded vigorously, he loved all food, (aside from mayonnaise, that was disgusting, Dean tried giving him some on a sandwich one day, and he was convinced for a moment that the man had tried to poison him) but hamburgers had quickly become his favourite. 

Sam chuckled, pulling a chair up beside the bed that Cas laid in. Castiel, even after years of knowing the younger Winchester, had never gotten over Sam’s beautiful eyes. And now, being human, the feelings he had for the Winchester had only intensified. He found himself drawn, in more ways than one, to Sam, who always, always welcomed him with open arms.

“How you feeling today, Cas? Better?” Sam’s voice was gentle, the smile on his face soft. Sam had been so kind, so accepting of him, when he had come to the bunker, dirty, injured, reeking of sweat and grim. When Cas had doubted himself, thinking himself dead weight for the Winchesters to carry around, Sam had shook his head and insisted that no, he wasn’t a burden, and he was just as important now as he was before. 

“I am, Sam. Thank you. I was wondering, do you think I could try to walk to the kitchen today? My leg is feeling much better.” Sam had denied him the ability to walk for awhile, saying now that Cas was human, he needed to start taking care of himself. 

“Sure, let’s get you some real clothes on. You’ve been in pajamas for the past couple weeks. I’m sure you’d enjoy wearing something other than old worn out flannel, huh?” They both laughed, Sam helping him onto his feet. The dull ache was there, but it felt better than it had before. 

Sam walked over to the dresser that stood in the far corner of the room, opening the top drawer. Cas smiled, seeing the folded up trench coat, suit jacket, button up, and slacks that Sam had stored away when Cas had gotten hurt.

“Here, get dressed. When you’re ready, I'll be in the kitchen.” Sam handed him the familiar clothes, and, with one final pat on the shoulder, left him alone in the room. 

The door clicked shut behind Sam, and after a moment of listening to retreating footsteps, he placed the pile of clothing onto the bed, and turned to face the mirror Sam had brought in a couple weeks ago. When he had asked why, Sam had told him for no other reason than decoration, it looked nice, and he already had one. It would make the room feel more homey, he said.

He had never been body conscious, mostly due to the fact that before, to him, it was just a vessel he was possessing, a suit to contain him. But, not anymore. And now, the mirror Sam had brought in, to make the room more comfortable, was doing nothing but mock him. In the reflection, he saw everything he didn’t think he’d ever become. 

Human, for one thing. Standing here, in an old shirt that maybe once belonged to Sam, with injuries that would’ve once healed automatically, that were just now starting to dull. And, more than any of that, his figure. Jimmy Novak, granted, was not the skinniest man, he had a fuller, if compared to say, Sam, frame, but nothing major. Now? The body that once belonged to Jimmy Novak, that used to be a smooth abdomen, maybe no abs, but no extra fat, was now covered in a thin, soft layer of skin.

He knew he was being dramatic, the shock of being human, the resentment towards Metatron for making him this way, but he couldn’t help it. It was partly Sam’s fault, for all the food he had been supplying. The calorie rich foods mixed with the restriction of any possible exercise was the source of his now softer figure.

He removed his shirt, tossing it to the side. He sighed, looking at himself once again in the mirror. The damage was worse now, without the clothing to hide it. A clear layer of extra weight clung to his torso. He turned sideways, examining the way his stomach stuck out off his figure, just slightly. If it was any other person, it might be unrecognisable. But this was his body now, and he could see the difference.

He grabbed the white button up, the thin, soft material sliding with ease over his shoulders. He started with the top button, working his way down. He softened the material down, dusting himself off. He looked at his reflection, dully noting the way the shirt was clinging to his middle. He grabbed the slacks, looking down at his thighs. 

He tugged the pants on, past his ankles and calves, up his thighs, and sighed, when he noticed the slacks clinging to his thighs, rolled up under his backside. He tugged fruitlessly, jumping in place, until he was able to slide the pants past his ass and into place. The button and zipper, however, were another point entirely. They were tight, and clung to his hips, where another soft accumulation of fat had appeared in his bed ridden time. 

The suit jacket and trench coat came on easy, and he was thankful for the baggy trench coat, which was helping to hide his changed figure. He knew Sam wouldn’t say anything, he was too kind to, but he’d still rather not have Sam see him in such a state.

He left his room, tugging gently on the white button up, hoping to hide the change of his body from the Winchesters, before walking into the kitchen.

The warm smile Sam threw him, when he noticed him standing in the doorway, made any thoughts of his body drain from his head, because the only thing he could focus on was Sam. The way his smile made his eyes scrunch up, and wrinkles near them absolutely endearing, and if he hadn’t known better, he could’ve believed that out of the two of them, Sam was the angel from heaven.

“Still hungry? Dean had to go out, we’re out of beer,” the eye roll, paired with the affectionate tone, make him smile, “we have a ton of food still left.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but, as if his absent father had decided to torment him once more, he was reminded of the tightness around his waist, where the band of his slacks dig into his soft middle. A polite no hung on his tongue, but one look into Sam’s hazel eyes, the pleading look painted across his face, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

“Of course, thank you again, Sam. For your kindness.” Sam smiled again at him, and shook his head. 

“Don’t thank me, you deserve it.” The plate Sam sat in front of him was loaded; two hamburger patties, with lettuce, pickles, tomatoes, and a set of lightly toasted buns, with a side of fries and, in true Winchester fashion, beer. He chuckled, and threw an amused glance at Sam, who sat down in front of him. 

They talked as he ate, about Sam, about Cas, about Metatron. Sam would listen, genuinely listen, when he talked about how he felt, and that made him feel so much better. The feeling of loneliness, of isolation and fear, that had grown in his chest disappeared, and was replaced by the warm feeling of acceptance.

“You look good, Cas. Happy. Healthy.” Sam said, and for a moment, he thought Sam was talking in general, until he followed Sam’s gaze, and felt a heated blush spread across his cheeks.

“All the extra food you’ve been bringing me is the cause of this.” He spoke, chuckling. It was Sam’s turn to blush, now, and he ducked his head, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just wanted to make sure you were fed.” Sam mumbled, and he laughed, and in a brash moment of confidence, he reached across the table and squeezed Sam’s hand. Sam looked up at him, wide hazel eyes full of shock, and for a moment, he considered pulling away, until Sam squeezed his hand back, smiling at him.

“Well, you did a great job at that, Sam.” They both stood up, empty plate forgotten on the table. He took a step closer to Sam, their bodies inches apart, and looked up at the face of the man who had spent so much time helping him, caring for him, loving him. 

“Did I?” Sam whispered, a question for only him to hear. He nodded, leaning up on his toes, and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the Winchester’s lips. 

“You did.”

  
  
  



End file.
